lundi 7 novembre 2011

Fanny Fern, RUTH HALL, New York, Mason Brothers, 1855, 400 pages.

“A summer house, hey!” said the old lady, as with stealthy, cat-like steps, she crossed a small piece of woods, between her house and Ruth’s; “a summer house! that ’s the way the money goes, is it?  What have we here? a book;” (picking up a volume which lay half hidden in the moss at her feet;) “poetry, I declare! the most frivolous of all reading; all pencil marked;—and here ’s something in Ruth’s own hand-writing—that’s poetry, too: worse and worse.”
“Well, we ’ll see how the kitchen of this poetess looks. I will go into the house the back way, and take them by surprise; that ’s the way to find people out.  None of your company faces for me.”
(p. 55)

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